


Christmastime in Arkham

by fangirlSevera



Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Danbert, M/M, collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlSevera/pseuds/fangirlSevera
Summary: A collection of three ficlets originally written last year as part of "12 Days of Holiday Shipping." Dan decorates the house, Herbert tolerates it, they both take issue with carolers.





	Christmastime in Arkham

**Author's Note:**

> As said in the summary, a repost of some little ficlets I wrote on tumblr last year. Christmas fluff, or as fluffy as Dan and Herbert can be. For added fun, a reference to "Color Out of Space
> 
> The book Herbert is reading in the Mistletoe story, [Dead and Buried? The Horrible History of Bodysnatching](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1899066.Dead_and_Buried_The_Horrible_History_of_Bodysnatching) is a real book, published in 1972. I've read it. It's fascinating.

# Decorating 

“Where are you going?”

“I told you I’m going to put lights up outside.”

“What for?”

“...You have noticed by now that it’s the Christmas season.”

Herbert rolled his eyes. “Rather unavoidable with all the red and green detritus covering every wall and counter at the hospital. I mean that you haven’t bothered before.”

“Maybe, for once, I’d like to bring some Christmas cheer to this place.”

“I let you have that tree, what more do you need?”

“You _let_ me have the tree?”

Herbert crossed his arms and turned his head, a common move when he didn’t want to answer Dan’s questions. 

“I’m not even asking you to, God forbid, help me. Just stay in here with your recreational reading.”

Herbert had discovered a box of books from one of the house’s previous tenants. They had frayed covers and yellowed pages, bearing titles such as _Modern Methods of Exsanguination_. He lifted the book up to his face. “Don’t kill yourself stapling electrical wires to the icy roof.”

“I’m sure if I did, you’d pump me full of reagent because you can’t live without me.” Before Herbert could even attempt to refute that last remark, Dan shoved a stocking hat on his head and headed out the door.

The lights he had bought new, so at least there wasn’t a big ordeal of untangling them from a ball, and were more than likely going to work without having to test them first. The glass bulbs were about half the size of his thumb and were painted in bright, bold colors. 

Dan remembered how his parents would argue about Christmas lights. His mother preferred to decorate with clear lights for a more “sophisticated” look to the tree and house. Dan, as a boy, preferred his father’s colorful take on the holiday. The lights lining the front of the house made their home look like it was made of gingerbread with shiny gumdrops. When snow covered the bushes, the lights would shine through, making the shrubs look like frosted cupcakes filled with sprinkles. 

Those were times Dan would not be able to recapture completely. Nor would he want to in a house filled with death and attempts at non-death. But a touch of normalcy helped to make Dan feel like he hadn’t completely sunk into moral depravity. 

He got out a wooden ladder and propped it against the roof of the front porch. The impact sent several icicles falling silently into the snow. Sticking the staple gun into a coat pocket, and looping the lights over one arm, Dan began to climb. This was where at least a little help from Herbert would have been appreciated. No matter who won the decorating argument that year, Dan’s parents always helped each other. His mother would hold the ladder steady as Dad ascended and would be there to hand him anything he needed or may have dropped. But Dan had come to terms long ago and his and Herbert’s partnership would never be like the examples through Dan’s youth, and he changed his expectations.

The sun was out, which made Dan squint as it reflected harshly off the snow. But it meant that any ice that had formed on the roof was melted and dripping off the gutters, making Dan’s endeavor less treacherous. He knelt on the damp tiles and got to work.

One string outlined the porch roof’s edge. Carefully standing, he used the next string to frame the window that looked out from the staircase landing. The surface beneath his feet shuddered as the front door opened and slammed shut. Dan stepped to the edge and looked down. 

Herbert was wearing a black, wool peacoat and a black cap. He lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the sun as he looked up. “What is it?” Dan asked.

“I realized that if you did fall and break your neck, it would be best I have access to your body as quickly as possible.”

“Thanks, that’s sweet. Hey, while you’re here, can you hand me one of the extension cords I left on the porch?” Dan went back to finish stapling around the window. A clatter behind him made turn, and Herbert’s eyes peered over the edge of the roof. A thick, orange cord came flying over from the ladder and landed with a thud at Dan’s feet. “Huh. Thank you.”

“Are you done, then?” Herbert didn’t attempt to take another step up.

“Nope, got to do the upper roof.”

Herbert lifted his eyes to the second storey, then furrowed his brow. “Must you?”

“No.” Dan plugged the lights into the extension cord. “But I want to.”

Herbert huffed and went down, Dan followed, after checking the connections one last time. Herbert was still looking up, frowning, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. “Do you really have a syringe on you right now?” Dan asked, maneuvering the ladder to a new position.

“What do you think?”

Dan shook his head. “Right, what was I thinking? Never leave home without it.”

With another extension cord wrapped around his arms along with the lights, and the higher climb, it was slow going. The ladder clattered and shook against the siding in a way that did make Dan a little nervous, but then suddenly it wasn’t. Dan glanced down to find Herbert at the bottom of the ladder, one foot on the last rung and hands bracing the sides. It reminded Dan of how his mother would do the exact same thing for his dad, no matter which color lights ended up going on the house. Dan smiled down gratefully.

Getting the lights up along the main roof was a slower affair due to the need for extra care. Herbert would occasionally shout up advice, or rather more like critiques, with regard to Dan’s methods. Dan ignored them, other than to be pleased that Herbert was truly worried about his well-being.

“Are you done _now_?” Herbert asked as Dan hopped off the ladder from five rungs up. 

Herbert sighed, relieved. “Good.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to have to use any of my formula unnecessarily.”

“Oh, no, we wouldn’t want that,” Dan agreed.

\----------------------------

“Okay, here we go!” 

“Just get on with it!” With the sun gone, the temperature outside was bitterly cold. Herbert bounced on his toes and tried keep his nose covered by his coat collar (scarves just made his glasses fog over. Adorable to Dan, but an understandable nuisance to Herbert). 

Dan plugged in the lights. He stepped back, joining Herbert far enough back to take in the entire front of the house. To Dan’s relief, not a single bulb was dark or flickering. Nor was any part blinking for no reason. “What do you think?” Dan asked, throwing an arm around Herbert’s shoulder.

“I…” Herbert paused, “have no opinion.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Are you pleased with them?”

It was a simple display, but, “Yeah. it’s exactly how I hoped it’d turn out.”

“Then what does it matter what I think? This,” Herbert waved his hand, encompassing the front of the house, “is your thing. Not getting frostbite is mine.” He disengaged himself from Dan’s side and went inside, leaving Dan alone.

Dan basked in the soft glow of the colorful lights and smiled, wondering if Herbert would manage to have an opinion if he bought a plastic Santa for the lawn.

# Mistletoe 

Dan hopped down from the kitchen chair and looked up at his latest addition to the house's Christmas decorations. He glanced over at Herbert who had set down his book and giving it his own scrutinizing gaze. "I suppose you object. '’

Herbert, sitting with his knees and wrists crossed said, "Not at all. I find mistletoe interesting. It's parasitic, you know. Can even kill its host plant.”

''And it's poisonous.”

''Depends on where you get it. The European variety, yes. Not so with the American strain.”

''Remind me to make you a salad once the holiday passes.”

Dan carried the chair back into the kitchen. Herbert followed so far as to the doorway and looked up at the small bunch of leaves and berries. ''Though if this was grown locally, I'd be concerned. Anything growing around the so-called 'blasted heath,’ if it manages to grow at all, turns toxic.”

''The blasted heath? It's not like you to listen to old wives tales about Arkham. God knows there's plenty.'’

''I don't," Herbert said, clearly offended by the accusation. "I did have a boy in the ER who had eaten an apple from the area on a dare. His insides were rotting.”

"Oh my God, what happened?”

“I gave him some antibiotics and he made a full recovery.”

''Oh, that's-'’ Herbert gave him a baleful side-eye. ''Right. Because sarcasm is how we handle a child's agonizing death.”

"It was fascinating from a scientific perspective.'’

"Of course it was. Well, I'm pretty sure this came from a greenhouse like all the poinsettias.”

Herbert sniffed. ''Oh, well. Would have been interesting to run some tests. “

''Well, I have one mistletoe test we can perform,'’ Dan leered and joined Herbert in the doorway.

Herbert cringed. "That's the line you're going with?" Still, he uncrossed his arms and let Dan pull him close. Herbert had to go upon his toes to meet Dan halfway.

Not content to be kissing with a bent neck, Dan shifted his grip and lifted Herbert off his feet. Herbert grunted and pushed at Dan's shoulder. "No. Down,'’ Herbert demanded.

Dan chuckled and gave Herbert's little nose a quick peck. ''All right, you can have your way since you let me have mine.” He set Herbert gently back down.

''Thank you,” Herbert said, adjusting his glasses. Without another word he went back and picked up his book, something called _Dead and Buried? The Horrible History of Bodysnatching_.

That was fine. Herbert would have to go through that doorway many times before Christmas.

# Carolers 

Dan found Herbert eating lunch by himself in the 6th floor break room. Well, if you Considered idley picking raisins out of an oatmeal cookie "eating,” and could call said cookie with a cup of vending machine coffee ''lunch.” 

''Where's the brown bag I packed you?”

Herbert looked up from the journal he was reading. ''Oh. Don't know,'' he said blithely and bent his head a back to his reading.

"Dammit, Herbert!” Dan dropped his own bagged lunch onto the table with a thud. "We've talked about this!'’

Herbert glanced at him over the rims of his glasses. “You lectured, and I probably made some noncommittal noise you interpreted as agreement.’’

Dan closed his eyes. ''I didn't come in here to fight with you.”

"Good." Herbert licked an index finger and turned the page.

"What I did want was to talk to you about coma patients.'’

''What about them?”

Dan took a deep breath. ''I think we could use the re-agent to wake them up.”

Herbert closed the journal and folded his hands over it. His mouth was pressed into his unhappy, prissy, little purse. ''That's not what my formula is for, Dan.”

''I know that, Herbert,'’ he rejoined in the same condescending tone Herbert had just used on him. "But look at how many medicines ended-up being useful in completely different ways than they were originally being made for.”

''So, you're suggesting we inject say... Mr. Cannon. It works. It doesn't. Either way, the hospital runs routine blood work, and then questions. And what-'’ Herbert cut himself off. "What is that noise?”

Dan took a moment to listen.The familiar notes of a traditional Christmas song floated through the hospital halls. ''It's just the radio at the nurse's station.”

Herbert's nostrils flared. "How can they not be sick of this music? Anyway, as I was saying: Testing on coma patients is too risky. Dealing with the living is... Is it getting louder?” Herbert's chair scraped across the linoleum as he got to his feet. "Someone needs to tell them to…” His words and steps came to a halt when he reached the doorway.

"What is it?” The singing /was/ getting louder, or was it closer?

Dan stood next to Herbert who said through gritted teeth, “Carolers.”

Stopped in front of the open door of a patient's room was a group of five people. The three women had wide-brimmed bonnets on their heads, and their hooped skirts filled the width of the hall. The two men wore top hats and Victorian coats. They were currently belting out ''/Ding dong merrily on high!/” Even Dan had to flinch at the shrillness of the soprano.

''Let them on the coma ward, and we won’t have to test your hypothesis.”

"Let them in the morgue, and your whole project will be defunct.” Herbert huffed a small laughed. ''Oh, no we've been spotted.”

''Quick, Dan, the door!” 

They ducked back into the room, slamming the door shut on the approaching singers.They stood there, backs braced against the door. It was not an unfamiliar position for them to be in. Realizing they were treating a local volunteer choir like the angry, uncontrollable dead made Dan laugh.

Herbert gave him a hard side-eye. "What?”

Dan shook his head and composed himself so they could hear the out of tune '';Noel" safely pass by. Once the voices faded, Dan sighed in relief and went back to their table.

Herbert sat back in his seat, giving Dan a considering look. ''I thought you liked that sort of ‘traditional’ thing.”

Dan unpacked his lunch. "Even I have my limits.'’ He tore his sandwich in half and offered part to Herbert. With a fond smirk, he took it.


End file.
